It was well over two hours past her bedtime, on a school night no less, so it was not at all surprising that Alexis had fallen asleep in the car. What was surprising was just how very asleep she was. When I leaned into the back of the car to unbuckle her seatbelt and carry her into the house, a river of drool ran down her face and onto her coat. She was so sound asleep that she didn't even wake up as I maneuvered her arms through the seatbelt straps, a surprising fact as she has been waking up enough to get her own arms through the holes by herself for years now. Normally, if a flea exhales three counties over, it's enough to wake Alexis.
I carried her into the house and gently set her down on the couch so I could find some pajamas. She who is usually oblivious of the human need to sleep didn't so much as twitch. She stayed sound asleep as I quickly pulled off her shoes, pulled her arms through her coat sleeves, carefully maneuvered her cardigan out from under her, and removed her tights. She even stayed asleep as I replaced her dress with a comfy pair of pink flannel Minnie Mouse pajamas.
I hauled her upstairs to her bed, her sleeping body like a sack of potatoes in my arms. I pulled back her bedding and carefully tucked her in between her brightly-colored polka dot sheets. As I pulled the last of her many blankets up to her chin, I marveled at the fact that she still hadn't stirred AT ALL. I don't remember the last time that I managed to move the child from the car to her bed without her waking up and throwing a middle-of-the-night party. Three years? Maybe four?
I leaned down to give Alexis a kiss on her forehead, just as I always do when I tuck her in for the night. "Goodnight, princess," I whispered. "I love you."
"I love you, too, momma," she whispered back.
She may not have stirred when I could have used a little help getting her to bed more efficiently, but even as she slept, she managed to say the exact right words at the exact right moment.
